The Inner Monologues
by loosedefense
Summary: Kyle Broflovski would do anything to protect his shameful, freakish secret. What happens when Cartman comes across it? Stan/Wendy, Stan/Kyle, Cartman/Kyle
1. Agreeing With Cartman

**Author's Note:** This is my first time ever writing for the SP fandom, and right now I have to warn you that I was never a huge fan of the series. Not until lately anyway. I watched a couple of episodes here and there when I was twelve with friends when we were all enamored by the sheer vulgarity of it like any other normal person, but that's about it. :p Therefore, armed with nothing but Wikipedia and a collection of amazing stories I've found on this site that I added to my Favorites pile, I present you with my offering. Pairings as of now include Stan/Wendy, Bebe/Kyle, Stan/Kyle and Cartman/Kyle with perhaps a few more to crop up as we go along. I don't have a developed plan yet, so I'm pulling all of this out of my ass as we go along to fit the big picture. My style to have the details fill in themselves over time. Nevertheless, please enjoy the story!

* * *

"And now every time I try to get close to her, she's got Bebe fielding me!" Stan Marsh exclaimed, slapping his palm against the lunch table for emphasis.

"Cock-blocking bitch," Cartman snorted, spitting out bits of food in his disdain. Without so much as a second thought, he snatched up the crumbs from the tabletop and tossed them back into his overly-full mouth, ignoring the disgusted looks from his three other companions. Stan ignored him in favor of turning to his best friend who was currently hunched over his assignments spread out in front of him.

"So what do you think I should do?" he questioned.

"I think you should take the opportunity to cop a feel," Kenny McCormick supplied helpfully. Stan ignored him as well, keeping his eyes on the redhead sitting across him. "Kyle?"

"Hmm?" Kyle Broflovski grunted, never taking his eyes off his work.

Stan sighed. It was always a struggle to get the boy's attention when he got like this. "What do you think I should do about Wendy?"

"I think you should totally go for it," Kyle said distractedly, proving that he hadn't listened to a single word Stan had been raving about for the past fifteen minutes. Stan let out a frustrated _tsk_.

"_How?"_

Kyle finally raised his head up to stare at the raven-haired boy curiously. "How what?"

"How – should – I – get – Wendy – talking – to – me again?" Stan ground out.

"That hippie bitch is such a fucking whore," Cartman butted in again, "I don't see why you're busting your blue balls when we all know all she's interested in is getting each of her holes filled at once. Just get your dirty Jew and that broke-ass slut bag over there and she'll spread herself open faster than—"

"Faster than you can spot any more crumbs with those piggy little eyes, fatass?" Kyle offered irritably.

"Aye! Don't call me fat when I'm trying to get you laid, you fucking Daywalker," Cartman snapped. "It's not my fault no girl will touch you when they all know the only way you'd be able to get in deep is with that Judaic nose rather than that pencil-dick of yours."

"I'm sure you know all about my dick, Cartman," Kyle returned, sounding bored now. "Hiding out in the locker-room is the closest you'll ever get to having anyone strip for you."

"Guys!" Stan tried to get their attention before the two of them got into it again, "My problem, please?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "I agree with Cartman," he said plainly.

"_Kyle!"_ Kyle held up his hands in surrender.

"All I'm saying is, you and Wendy have been going over this since the fourth grade," he amended. "You should know the drill by now, Stan. She ignores you for a couple of days, you bend over backwards trying to get her back and fail miserably, and she starts talking to you of her own accord. And repeat."

Stan considered this. "But in order to make that work, won't I have to do something so that she'll see I'm bending over backwards to get her to talk to me again?"

Kyle gave a painful smile. "Maybe this time you could try skipping that step."

He got to his feet. "I can see I'm not going to get much done here; I'll be in the library until class starts."

"Don't you ever take a break?" Stan asked him. "Homework is meant to be done at home, you know."

Kyle flashed him a toothy grin. "Well, if I did that, when would I ever get time to revise?" And with that, he stuffed his work messily into his backpack and waved them goodbye.

"Friggin' Jew," Cartman turned to Stan. "So what are you going to do about your ho?"

Stan frowned. Over the years, Cartman's had dulled to a mild annoyance they had all resigned to having to put up with. The boy who had once invented terms such as 'daywalker' had failed to grow more creative over time, and as such, his repetitive remarks had lost the edge they once had; still, Stan couldn't say he appreciated any of the words that spilled out of his mouth. "Don't call her that, fatass," he replied monotonously.

"Aye!" Cartman frowned. "Don't tell me you're going to take Jew-boy's word. What would that fag know about girls?"

"Kyle is _not_ gay," Stan repeated for the millionth time. "And I happen to think it's a good idea, personally. Definitely saves me a lot of effort."

"Oh yeah?" Cartman leered. "When was the last time you ever saw him try to pump into some bitch, huh? And you want to talk about effort?"

Stan opened his mouth to argue, but paused. He couldn't rightly say he had ever seen Kyle go out on a date, now that he thought about it; not a proper one, at least. Kyle had never really shown interest in any girl in South Park, now that he thought about it.

Cartman smiled smugly at the lack of response. "That doesn't mean he's gay though," the words came from Kenny. The other two boys turned to face him. "I've never seen Kyle show interest in any boys either," he stated, as though reading Stan's thoughts.

Cartman sneered. "Like he would tell you, dipshit; telling you something like that would only end up with being raped in your cardboard box."

"Why are we friends with you again?" Stan queried.

"Because you don't have anyone else," Cartman informed.

"Uh, no," Stan rebuffed. "I have lots of people just vying for my attention."

"Oh yeah," Cartman gazed around the lunchroom and Stan's eyes involuntarily followed. All the students around them were talking animatedly to one another, paying the three of them no mind. Wendy Testaburger averted her eyes when she caught Stan's; Bebe Stevens gave him a dirty look; Token Black rolled his eyes; Tweek jumped up a mile in the air and crashed down on the dirty linoleum floor; Craig flipped them off. _"Lots of people."_ Cartman highlighted his point by landing his gaze squarely back on Kyle's abandoned seat.

Stan nudged him hard with his elbow. "Fatass," he muttered, getting to his feet and marching over to the table occupied by Wendy, Bebe, Red, Heidi and several girls he hardly took notice of. Bebe pushed back her seat, trying to stare him down with an intimidating look. Stan held up his hands as a peace offering.

"Listen, Bebe, I didn't come here to fight, I just wanted to talk to Wendy—"

Bebe picked up her fork.

"Um …" Stan took a step backward, hands still raised where she could see them. He turned back to his friends for support. Cartman was helping himself to Stan's half-eaten lunch and Kenny was making hand-motions akin to milking a cow.

"No help there," Stan grumbled, turning back to Bebe. Wendy was watching the proceedings with mild interest, and Stan glared at her, which only served to make Bebe wave the utensil threateningly in his face. He was going to have to do something drastic in order to get out of this one unscathed. Recalling his earlier conversation with Cartman, an idea came to him in a dazzling flash of brilliance. "I was just wondering if you would be interested in joining me and Wendy this Friday … with Kyle."

It worked like a charm. The fork clattered to the ground and Bebe clapped her hands together as a dreamy expression covered her face. "Bebe?" Wendy called out with some alarm. "Bebe, what are you doing?"

"_We graciously accept,"_ Bebe sighed, paying her friend no mind. Stan gave his girlfriend a triumphant look, one which Wendy returned by baring her teeth.

"So we'll pick you up then, say around eight?" Stan smirked. Bebe said nothing but sank back into her seat with a smile tugging at her lips. Stan almost skipped back over to his own table.

"Looks like Wendy and I have a date," he announced as soon as he took his seat, ignoring the fact that Cartman had completely demolished his way through his lunch. "With Kyle and Bebe in tow."

"No fucking surprise that ho still scissors herself to pictures of the Jew-fro," Cartman smacked his lips in attempt to aggravate Stan. Stan couldn't have cared less; even happier than he was for himself for having figured out how to get to Wendy was how he felt for helping out his best friend who was obviously too shy to approach girls on his own. This was the start of something good for Kyle; he could feel it. He turned back around to catch Bebe making gestures similar to the one Kenny had been doing just a moment before, except this one undoubtedly expressed her desire to get her hands on Kyle Broflovski's bountiful buns.

Definitely something good.

* * *

"No." Kyle said without breaking his stride as he typed furiously on his computer.

Stan flopped around on the bed, exasperated. "Why not?"

"Doesn't matter," Kyle said resolutely. "I said no; that should be the end of it."

"Bu – bu – but Bebe's really looking forward to it! You should have seen how excited she was," Stan protested.

"You shouldn't have done that," Kyle admonished, finally spinning around to glare at him before returning to his work. "Bebe knows how I feel about her; I worked hard to keep things in the unresolved limbo that they hung in."

"Come on, Kyle, it's one date!" Stan got to his feet. Again, his conversation with Cartman at the lunch table came to him. He chewed his lip thoughtfully, before making his way over to his friend, sashaying his hips exaggeratedly in order to get into character. He placed one hand upon Kyle's red hair and rested the other against a pale cheek. "If you do this for me, I'll make it worth your while," he promised playfully in a husky voice. Kyle jumped so high, Stan was almost surprised his head didn't get trapped in the ceiling.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he yelped.

"Nothing!" Stan backed away. At least he knew that Cartman was wrong now; if Kyle truly were gay, he would have leaned into the touch, Stan was sure. "So are you coming or what?"

"Um, no," Kyle was still staring at him oddly as though wondering what had just happened a moment ago. Stan deflated.

"_Pleeeeeeeeeeease,_ Kyle?" he pleaded. "It's the only way I could get Wendy to come out with me. Don't make me beg."

"You're already begging," Kyle pointed out. "I told you to leave the Wendy thing alone. She would have come crawling back to you by Wednesday. Why did you have to get me involved?"

"Okay," Stan allowed, "I'm an idiot. And you can hate me all you want _after_ Friday, but _pleeeeeeease_ do this for me?"

Kyle hung his head in defeat. "Alright, fine. But after this, you don't get to bug me about dating until we graduate."

"Deal!" Stan leaped at the offer.

* * *

"You're a hard man to pin down, Broflovski." Kyle jumped when the locker next to his was treated to a particularly hard slam, jarring his from his rather mundane task of organizing his books. He looked over to find Bebe Stevens smirking up at him.

"Hi, Bebe," he said cautiously. "How goes it?"

"It goes well, Kyle Broflovski," Bebe's mocked in a darkly seductive voice. "I trust Marsh told you of our plans this Friday?"

"Dinner and a movie. He's paying," Kyle replied in a flat monotone.

Bebe scrunched up closer to him, grazing her breasts against his arm. Unconsciously, Kyle inched away. "Er, Bebe, I'm going to be late for class," he excused himself.

Her smile turned predatory. "Class is over, Kyle," she informed him. "And I know you aren't part of any clubs."

Kyle swore under his breath. "I meant class as in … tutoring. I'm tutoring …" he darted his eyes around to pick someone to serve as his alibi, "Butters."

Unconvinced, Bebe turned around and barked, "Butters! What are you doing after school?"

The boy paused and stuttered over his words. "Well, golly gee, Bebe, I – I wasn't planning on doing much of anything, if y – you would like to get together or—" But Bebe wasn't paying attention anymore, tuning out the dithering boy's advances.

"You're trying to get away from me, that's cool," she replied unperturbed by the redhead's desire to walk away. "Just remember that I like a chase. And come Friday night…" she left the sentence hanging, walking past him. Kyle's relieved sigh turned into a yelp of pain as her hand slapped against his buttcheek hard before giving it a firm squeeze.

"_That's what I'm talkin' about!"_ Bebe barked over her shoulder before raising her hand to her face and smiling.

_It felt just like I always dreamt it would_, she was pleased to note.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I am procrastinating MAJORLY on my Danny Phantom fic right now, which I shall eventually get back to after this damn writer's block, so just as a warning, updating will be a little bit strained between uni, work and focusing on my other fics as well. Please drop me some reviews to tell me what you thought so far and whether the characters stayed true enough for you. As I have nothing more than a basic knowledge of their dynamics, I've used the personalities of other characters I've seen over the years to serve as a sort of guideline for me; Bebe Stevens, for example, is partly based on Cindy from the _Jimmy Neutron_ series; Butters has been injected with a little bit of that nasal red-headed kid, Pud'n from _The Grim Adventures Of Billy & Mandy_; Kyle ... well, any time I try to picture a grown-up Kyle Broflovski, I'm oddly stuck with the image of Dave Annable from _Brothers & Sisters_. But hey, it works for me. Cartman is infinitely fun to write about though. :D


	2. Date Night

Despite what Eric Cartman had to say, Kyle Broflovski was never one to weasel out what was expected of him. He took care of his little brother Ike when his father was too busy preparing for a case and his mother was too engrossed in her latest crusade; he did his homework to the best of his very considerable ability; and he always made time to put up with his friends no matter how much they tended to pester him.

But when Friday morning arrived, Kyle Broflovski came damn close to hiding out under his bed.

Tugging his tired body from under the comforters, Kyle yawned, scratched himself, and let his tired eyes wander around the room where they eventually landed upon his normally pristine calendar which was now tarnished where someone had circled the current date in red ink so vigorously it almost covered the entire block of space. Above it, in a messy scrawl, someone had printed 'DATE NIGHT!!!'.

Kyle groaned. Stan's exuberance over the entire debacle had been stewing all week, and he was sure to be completely unbearable today.

After his shower, he made his way downstairs where his family was sitting down to breakfast. His father was busy scanning the morning paper, while his mother was setting dishes on the table. Kyle sullenly took his place at his usual seat.

"Why so glum, Kyle?" Sheila raised immediately, her back still turned to the three of them. Kyle didn't question it. His mother always knew.

"Nothing, mom, I'm fine," he said monotonously.

His father peeked out over the wilting top of the paper. "Cheer up, son," he said before promptly burying himself behind the newsprint again.

Kyle rolled his eyes but couldn't keep from smirking at his dad's lax attempt.

Ike, who had been busy coloring random stripes into a blank piece of paper with his set of crayons, suddenly squished the palm of his hand into Kyle's nose. "Face."

"Ike!" Kyle shook his head instinctively as if to swat away his half-brother's hand.

Sheila turned around and gave her youngest son a proud smile. "Yes, Ike. Face." She sat down at the head of the table, picking up her fork. "So, Kyle, you didn't answer my question – why so glum?"

"It's nothing, mom," Kyle started to say, but was interrupted when Ike once again reached out and grabbed on to his nose. "Nose."

"Ike!" Kyle pulled away again. "Mom, tell him to stop."

"Ike, have you finished your coloring?" Sheila prodded gently. Ike proudly waved his piece of paper for her to see.

"Very good, Ike!" Sheila clapped her hands together in joy. "That's going straight on the refrigerator."

But Ike gripped tightly on to the edge when she tried to take it from him. "Not finished yet," he informed. Sheila loosened her grip.

"Okay, sweetie, you just tell me when you are. Bubelah – you'd better eat up," she warned Kyle. "Otherwise you'll miss the bus."

"It's okay, I'm not hungry," Kyle pushed his seat back, hoisting his backpack over his shoulder. "I'll just go now."

"Oh, bubbe, you're not going to be able to concentrate in school!" Sheila protested. "You know what happens when your blood sugar gets too low."

"Mom—"

"At _least_ have a banana," Sheila got to her feet, dashing over to the counter where they kept an ever-maintained bowl of fruit, picking one and holding it out for her son to take.

"Mom—" Kyle tried again, before heaving a sigh, "fine," he took the fruit, making a show of peeling it and aggressively biting off the tip. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," Sheila didn't miss a beat. "Now go on, bubbe. I'll clean up for you."

He waved goodbye in the general direction of his family and slammed the door shut behind him, munching on the banana as he slowly, almost reluctantly, made his way to the bus stop where he knew Stan would be waiting for him bursting at the seams.

He was right – Stan was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his hands hidden deep within the pockets of his coat. Next to him was the lumbering figure of Eric Cartman, and rounding off the group was the skinny frame of Kenny McCormick.

"Kenny, I've told you a million times to get rid of that coat," Kyle said in exasperation as he got closer to his friends. "You're going to suffocate."

Though its use had been almost completely worn out, Kenny staunchly refused to give up the orange parka he'd worn ever since they were in grade school, claiming that it still served its purpose in keeping him warm even when the rest of them pointed out that it barely covered even a third of his torso. How the blonde boy managed to squeeze himself into the damn thing, Kyle couldn't understand.

"Moff hemmimem man weffa hoo vie hoo whoa foo foe," came the muffled response.

"I know not everyone can afford to buy a new coat – Kenny, I will _give_ you one," Kyle responded. "I've got a million stored in my closet, I've told you before to help yourself to them."

"He's probably afraid of finding your collection of dildos, Kahl," Cartman interjected.

"Hi fol few vie hoohent hake hem hont yeet he hike fum fahehey hase."

"I'm _not_ treating you like some charity case!" Kyle cried. "I'd say the same thing to Stan if he were using the same coat he had before puberty."

Stan, who had clearly been waiting for Kyle to notice him, took this as his cue to steal the conversation. "So Bebe called me yesterday and she's really excited about our date tonight," he rushed out.

"It's nice you two are finally going out on a date, Stan," Cartman said. "Is there a hotline where the rest of us can express our excitement too?"

Stan ignored Cartman, wrapping an arm around Kyle's shoulders. "I'm coming over after school to help you pick out an outfit."

Kyle stared. "Pick out an outfit? What for?"

Stan snorted. "Come on Kyle, you're going on a date, you don't want to look like you don't give a damn, do you?"

"I _don't_ give a damn, Stan," Kyle reminded. "In fact, maybe it would be better if we called the whole thing off. Don't you want to reconcile with Wendy without me and Bebe crowding your style?"

Stan smiled slowly. "Okay then," he said agreeably. "I'll just tell Bebe it's off – and that you two are flying solo."

Kyle's eyes widened. "That's not exactly what I meant—"

"Oh, good," Stan said in a slick voice. "Then I'll come over tonight and get you ready. I was thinking we could go see the new Tim Burton/Johnny Depp movie."

Before Kyle had a chance to reply, the yellow schoolbus pulled up their side, the door sliding open.

"Get in. Sit down. _Shut up!_"

Stan clapped Kyle on the back before boarding, followed by Kenny. Kyle went next, with Cartman close behind. Kyle took his usual seat next to Stan, and Cartman parked himself in the seat directly behind. As the bus started up again, Stan began to run through all the things he had planned for that night.

"I'll pick up Wendy first so that she can sit up front, and then come back for you – unless Bebe is at her place, which she probably will be, in which case, I'll pick you up _last_ – and you guys can start talking while I drive. Don't worry about awkward silences or anything, Bebe can talk enough for two ... first I was thinking we could hang out at the mall for a bit, just look around and shit before going for the movie – I know Wendy likes to window-shop, and if Bebe is anything like her, it'll be a good way to kill time as well. After the movie, we can go for dinner, there's a new cafe that opened up on the ground floor that's supposed to be really cool—"

"So nice of Stan to organize a night for you guys, wouldn't you say, Kahl?" Cartman slithered over their seat, gazing down at the two boys. Kyle shot him a dark look.

"Really shows the initiative, I think. It's so lucky you have him for a friend, because really, if not for him – why, you'd probably never have the chance to get your rocks off with anyone in your entire life."

"Shut up, Cartman," Stan snapped.

"No, no, I'm seriously, Stan. Think about it. That's the whole reason you asked Bebe, right? It's not as if you were trying to bribe her, was it?"

"I already know how Stan managed to get Wendy to go out with him, Cartman, so whatever it is you're trying to do, save your breath," Kyle said.

Cartman paused, his mouth curled unpleasantly. "Well that's good, Kahl. That's real good. Acceptance is the first step, after all. So you admit that without Stan here, you wouldn't dare approach a girl on your own?"

"Well, I..." Kyle faltered. "Shut the fuck up, fatass! I didn't say that."

Cartman smirked, leaning in closer to the two of them. "Be honest now, Kahl. That's all you got going for you. You know those people you hear about, who people talk to because they're trying to figure out if they're a boy or a girl, but they can't because their voice sounds like it's just as in-between as the rest of them? How do you think they got that way, Kahl?"

"Cartman..." Stan's voice had an edge of warning to it.

"It's because they never went on dates and spent all their time jerking off in their room. Finally their bodies decided if they couldn't get another boy or girl to satisfy their needs, they'd just have to turn into one instead. Sort of like those flowers that have to impregnate themselves because none of the others will do it. Weird how nature balances itself out, eh, Kahl?"

Neither Stan nor Kyle answered, their eyes simmering with anger. Satisfied, Cartman slid back to his own seat, leaving them to stew over his words.

* * *

When class let out, Stan and Kyle trudged back to the Broflovski residence, heavy bags weighing them down. Neither said a word to each other; Cartman's words had effectively placed them both in a negative mood the entire day. On the flip side, however, Stan was more determined than ever to make the evening work, and the redhead had heartened considerably to the effort with the prospect of showing Cartman up. So when they raced up to Kyle's room, Kyle graciously allowed his friend to tear through his closet looking for something to wear with minimal complaints about the mess he created in the process.

"Jeez Kyle, I know it's your color and all, but don't you have anything in here that _isn't_ green?" Stan held up another sweater to examine, his face scrunched up in distaste.

Kyle opened his mouth to remind Stan of the sheer amount of _blue_ that decorated his room, but was stopped short when the sweater was sent careening on to his face. Stan pulled out a short-sleeved yellow flannel shirt and made an appreciative sound, turning to face Kyle.

"You can't be serious," the Jewish boy said. "I hate that shirt!"

"It's the best one you have," Stan insisted.

"Stan, I'll freeze. Look at it, it's so thin," Kyle attempted to reason with the raven-haired boy.

"Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the sake of looking good," Stan replied. "Trust me, if I hadn't learned to make such sacrifices, I wouldn't be in the position I am today with Wendy."

"No doubt," Kyle muttered, snatching the shirt from his friend's hands.

"Okay, you go put it on. I'm gonna go home and get ready, and I'll be back with the girls," Stan informed, already heading for the door.

Kyle sighed. The things he did for Stan Marsh.

When Stan returned, he indeed had both Wendy and Bebe in tow. Kyle, freshly showered and smelling of his father's cologne, hopped into the car, and they were off.

"Stan, slow down," Wendy admonished. "The roads are slippery."

"Don't worry baby," Stan grinned. "You're with Stan 'The Man' Marsh. Ain't nothin' gonna happen to that pretty face of yours."

Wendy chose to respond with icy silence, glaring out the window. Kyle turned to whisper a comment to Bebe, but failed to do so when he caught sight of the predatory gleam in her eye. She was grinning up at him, her eyeteeth visible in the relative darkness.

Kyle turned back to stare out the windshield, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

After several minutes, Stan seemed to grow aware that no one was actually talking. Wendy was still obviously mad at him for tricking his way back into dating her, and Bebe seemed content to watch Kyle squirm in utter silence.

"So, Bebe," he started, "how's the cheer squad coming along? Bet they've been working as hard as the boys for next year's games."

Bebe didn't answer, her grin widening as she remained focused on Kyle. Kyle shifted as close to the door as possible. Bebe shifted along with him, still maintaining the same amount of distance between their bodies.

Kyle knew it was destined to go badly, but this was just getting freaky.

"Wendy," he hissed when they finally arrived at car park of the mall. "Tell Bebe to chill the fuck out."

Wendy turned curious eyes on to him. "She felt you up?"

Kyle blinked. "Uh, no."

"Then trust me when I say this, Kyle, she's as chilled out as she's ever going to get." Wendy stalked towards the mall without waiting for Stan to catch up. Bebe sidled up against Kyle, clutching on to him delicate wrist. Kyle shook his hand uselessly, but, just as he expected, it did nothing to shake her off.

Inside, the four teens browsed the video game store, most of the releases Kyle and Stan had seen the previous week before when they came together before acquiescing with the girls request to go into the latest fashion department. They stood near the entrance with their arms folded and stoic expressions on their faces while Wendy and Bebe held cute little outfits up against the other's body, claiming how good she would look in it. Kyle noticed with some apprehension the amount of clothes they began piling upon their arm.

"If they make us carry all of that for them, I am out of here," he warned Stan.

"Oh, come on, Kyle, that's not fair. You knew this would happen the second we stepped inside the store," Stan whispered back. The two girls bounded off towards the dressing rooms and Stan and Kyle reluctantly followed.

All four of them stopped short suddenly.

"Dude," Stan said, a shell-shocked expression on his face, "isn't that J.K. Rowling?"

It was, as far as Kyle could tell, J.K. Rowling.

"What is J.K. Rowling doing in South Park?" Wendy spluttered, several skirts falling away from her grip and crumpling on the floor.

"It looks like she's shopping," Kyle said uncertainly, though this raised far more questions than it answered, in his opinion.

"Let's go say hi," Bebe suggested. Stan, Wendy and Kyle started to protest, but she had already thrown the clothes she had picked out to the floor and rushed up to the billionaire. "Miss Rowling?"

J.K. Rowling turned to find the blonde girl peering inquisitively at her. "Oh, hello there, young Muggle," she greeted.

"Hi!" Bebe chirped. "I'm Bebe Stevens," she held out her hand for Rowling to shake. "Welcome to South Park – what the eff are you doing here?"

"Oh," J.K. chortled, "I just came to browse the new selections. It takes a lot more effort now that Harrods won't let me in anymore."

Wendy raised her eyebrows at this. "South Park is the most fashionable place you could find outside of Harrods?"

"Well, I'm hardly going to shop in London after that kind of mistreatment," the author spat. "Drunk and disorderly conduct indeed!"

The four teens exchanged mystified looks. It was public knowledge the years after her famous franchise ended hadn't been good to the woman. Allegations of substance abuse had reached even the ears of her American fans, and up close, Kyle found her sagging skin and the way she kept rubbing at her reddened nose slightly disturbing.

There was a strange sound Kyle's ears picked up on. It started off tiny, sort of like a fly that wouldn't leave no matter how many times you brushed it off, then gradually grew louder. It sounded like screaming. Not the way crowds of fans who recognized a celebrity in their midst would, but rather more like the screaming of one individual person, one individual _male_ person. It sounded like...

The four of them jumped back as a massive blob clad in red and brown crashed against the billionaire before them, knocking her to her side. "Cartman!" Kyle hollered, "Get off of her. You're crushing J.K. Rowling!"

Instead of abiding by Kyle's words, Cartman began to roll around, fists crashing down on the smaller woman.

"What is he doing?" Wendy gaped. "Is he _beating up_ J.K. Rowling?"

Rowling began to fight back, animalistic grunts escaping her as she bit and scratched at the obese boy above her, the two of them rolling around on the floor of the department store.

"I got a bone to pick with you, bitch," Cartman was saying as he pulled at her hair. "I want my money back!"

"Cartman, stop it!" Kyle shrieked, running forward and attempting to pull the larger boy off the famous author.

"Let go, Jew! I'm doing this for all the people she's stolen from over the years." Cartman's hands wrapped around Rowling's neck and he began to smack her head hard against the tile. "Apologize for _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_!"

"Never!" Rowling screeched, bringing up her knee in a fruitless attempt to land it on his crotch.

As Kyle watched Cartman demand a rewrite, he felt someone tug on his arm.

"Come on, dude," Stan said. "We're going to be late for the movie!"

"But we can't just leave them like this!" Kyle gestured to the two figures still fighting on the ground.

Stan rolled his eyes. "Kyle, it's J.K. Rowling. I'm sure she has people to take care of this kind of stuff, okay? Now come on. I already reserved tickets." And with that he guided Kyle out of the department store in the direction of the movie hall.

The crowd for the movie was long, but Stan sauntered confidently up to the counter. "Four tickets for the new Tim Burton movie, please," he said. "Here is my reservation."

The teenage girl entered the reservation code he had written down into the computer. "We already gave your seats away, sir," she said in a dull tone.

"_What?"_ Stan cried out. He checked the watch on his left wrist. "But we're fifteen minutes early!"

The girl simply shrugged. "Oops."

"Well, then can't you give me another four seats?"

"If you wish to purchase tickets for the movie, you'll have to stand in line, sir," she replied in the same dull tone.

Stan leaned forward, bracing his arms on the glazed surface of the counter. "But I woke up and reserved these tickets at six o'clock in the morning," he gritted out.

The girl stared insolently up at him.

Furious, Stan stomped over to the back of the line, resolutely avoiding Wendy's curious eyes. When they finally reached the counter, Stan held back his anger and requested four tickets to the movie.

"The movie commenced five minutes ago and we are unable to supply you with a ticket at this point in time, sir," the girl recited monotonously.

Stan closed his eyes and prayed for strength. "But it's only the previews that are playing right now," he told her.

"Company policy dictates that the box office is not allowed to provide tickets to customers once a movie's screening time has commenced."

"Fine," Stan breathed. "I'll take the next screening then."

"There are no future screenings of this movie scheduled for this date."

"What are you talking about?" Stan burst out. "It's 8:30 PM. How can you not have any future screenings on its _opening week_?"

"There are no future screenings of this movie scheduled for this date," the girl echoed. "However, there are several tickets to our gold class screening of this film still available for purchase."

"Gold class! That's an extra thirty dollars apiece!"

The girl stared insolently up at him.

Stan sighed, hanging his head down. "Fine," he managed to get out. "Four tickets for your _gold class screening_ of the Tim Burton film – _please_."

The blonde girl tapped at her keyboard several moments before meeting Stan's eyes again. "That will be one hundred and sixty dollars."

Fuming silently, Stan pulled out his wallet and handed her the credit card his parents gave him for emergency cases. Kyle shook his head at the show of irresponsibility. As though sensing his friend's thoughts, Stan glared.

The girl provided him with the receipt to sign. "Enjoy your movie, sir!" she said in a chipper voice before returning to the dull monotone she had addressed him with all along. "Next."

"You really didn't have to do that, Stan," Wendy said. "We could have all just gone to dinner, and it would have been the same."

"No it wouldn't," Stan replied sourly. "It would have been a hundred and sixty bucks cheaper."

Considering the price of the tickets, Kyle, Wendy and Bebe had offered to go without refreshments throughout the course of the movie, but Stan insisted that since they – he – had already paid for the experience, they might as well take advantage of it in full.

The cinema hall was smaller than the regular one was. There was a separate door that led into the gold class lounge where a bar serving Coke and popcorn along with various other snacks was located amidst a sea of a comfortable couches. Once they had purchased their snacks, they made their way over to the movie room, which, the group found, consisted of a large screen and several—

"Beanbag chairs," Stan muttered. "I paid a hundred and sixty bucks for beanbag chairs."

"You shouldn't have done it if you couldn't justify the purchase," Kyle said shortly.

"That's why I'm only lamenting it to you and not Wendy," Stan responded.

They took their seats, Stan and Kyle next to each other with their respective dates on either side. It appeared they were the only ones who had bothered buying the gold class tickets. Soon after they settled into their seats, the cinema darkened.

Once the ads were over, the movie began to play. It was hard to see much of anything, Kyle thought. Johnny Depp was standing in front of a bed, highlight in green, and he began to pull his shirt off, throwing it off screen, before unbuttoning his pants.

Kyle nudged Stan in the arm. "How much of this movie do you think is going to be filmed in night-vision?"

"It's Tim Burton, man, who knows?" Stan whispered back, eyes focused on the screen.

Johnny Depp was completely naked now and lying expectantly upon the sheets. Wendy's eyebrows shot up. "I didn't think they were allowed to film all of that," she stated.

A girl moved in to the shot then, clad in shorts and a lacy bra. Her back was turned to the screen and all the audience could see was her curly black hair. The two actors began to kiss, Depp's hands sliding from her face, to her neck, and then lower, cupping her breasts through the confines of the bra she wore, reaching back to undo the clasp. He gripped her boobs then and dove into them face-first, blowing a raspberry on them the way someone would on a baby's stomach.

The girl let out a laugh that was halfway a moan as he began caressing and then pinching at her nipples. The Handycam Tim Burton was using shifted so that the angle changed and the face of the woman was revealed. Kyle's jaw dropped.

"Holy shit! Isn't that Helena Bonham Carter?"

The four teens watched in shock as Johnny Depp continued to work on the director's wife for the camera. The camera shifted again as though it had just been placed upon a balancing surface, and then a half-dressed Tim Burton appeared, throwing off his undone shirt and clambering on to the bed.

The four of them watched, their eyes as big as saucers, as Helena Bonham Carter was pushed aside and the two men began to kiss. The buxom brunette let out a moan, fingering herself through her thin shorts as Burton lay Depp down and proceeded to attack his neck, while Depp's fingers scrabbled to undo the director's slacks...

"O-_kay_, this is getting weird," Stan got to his feet, pulling Wendy up with him. Kyle struggled to escape the beanbag's hold, eventually succeeding in standing up shakily as well. He held his hand out for Bebe, knowing that if he didn't, it would take them even longer to get the fuck away from this movie. She accepted it, and he pulled her up.

"Mmm, you're strong, Kyle," she purred. "And this flick is really giving me some ideas."

Kyle was whisked away by Stan, who clearly wanted out _now_. As he pushed open the door, he pulled out the four tickets he had kept in his shirt pocket, shaking his head mournfully before hurling them down and stomping on them with his shoe.

"A hundred and sixty bucks for these," he muttered.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I know Ike Broflovski is supposed to be a genius. My explanation for the way I've portrayed him here is that, sometimes, there's a thin line. I'll expand more on it in the chapters to come, but I didn't want to go down the traditional route with this story, and it's really very possible for prodigy to give way to autism as time goes on. It's heartbreaking, but it does happen.

On the other hand, I hope I've managed to stay true to the humor of the series. I've watched a couple more episodes (I can't seem to find a set timing for them, so I only watch what I can while channel surfing). Please let me know what you think.


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